True Story Tuesday: Midnight Fondue

Alright so this isn’t so much a harrowing experience as it was just a really good time and we probably bothered literally everyone we encountered but irregardless it was great, here we go!

Aunt River and I, when planning our trip to Paris, had wanted to get fondue.

This idea came, first of all, from the fact that fondue is delicious and probably the third most French thing after Versailles and protesting, but also from my Aunt Sun and my cousin Sunflower. They said that when they visited Paris they loved to sit in cafes, have their fondue, and relax as they watched the pedestrians stroll by.

I can picture it, the pair of them effortlessly casual, chatting away with their chocolate fondue, the sun setting behind a cafe with it’s name written in cursive. Fragrant wisterias adorn the casements, and the sound of French chatter is low and soft as the fading light.

Of course Aunt River and I had to try it, so we made plans to find a fondue place in Montmartre.

True to form, at least for me, we ended up eating a lot of Chinese food instead. There was a place that had particularly good dumplings just around the corner from the Moulin Rouge and they became less of midnight snacks and more like midnight meals. I couldn’t complain, they were fantastic.

It came down to our last night in Paris, and as we packed our bags for the next morning’s train we realised we hadn’t gotten our fondue. It was nearing eleven at night, but in a wave of whimsy we had a look at places that were still open.

As luck would have it, there was one not too far from our hotel. I think Aunt River had a moment of “Are we really going to do this?” That was likely the exact moment I had my hand on the hotel door, asking her if she was ready to go yet.

As quick as the jaunt was, my hopes weren’t high. They were closing at eleven thirty, and we arrived at roughly eleven fifteen. I didn’t think they would give us a table, but they did!

The waiter looked slightly annoyed when we came in, even more so when we ordered fondue for two. They didn’t have chocolate or cheese but they did have oil fondue. It’s a pot of hot oil which you dip cubes of raw meat in to cook it. I’ll admit I wasn’t too keen on the idea that I was eating off a plate with raw meat on it, but Aunt River assured me it was fine.

I can honestly say that this is great way to eat. It lets you digest, lets you nibble, it forces you not to wolf down your food, which is I think the essence of Parisian French life. Prend ton temp. Take your time.

We were half way through our meal when we began to hear shouting in the street we had just come down. Not a crowd of people, just one man, raving about some conspiracy theory laced with obscenities.

Both Aunt River and I tensed for a moment, wondering as his yelling got closer if we would be subject to his ever more aggravated ramblings. I think I remember someone telling him in a not-so-polite manner to keep walking.

He did eventually leave, and the night grew peaceful again. We thanked the staff who stayed with us, and were on our way.

It’s not a very exciting true story, but it is a nice one. I think it’s important to realise in your travels that you will not have the same experience as everyone else. What you need to remember is that it’s your own experience, your story to tell, and those differences make the trip all the more special.